


Ambition, Or Holocaust 101: What To Do When It's Your Turn

by NyeLew



Series: Turretverse [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyeLew/pseuds/NyeLew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AR-1 visits a variety of worlds looking for trading partners and discovers some techniques for surviving the Wraith that, whilst superficially similar, aren't very much alike at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rodney had never been so happy to step into a smog-filled industrial hellhole before. He’d assumed all of the worlds in Pegasus would be carbon copies of Athos, but Teyla had come up trumps with this one. From the architecture – and what he saw was definitely architecture rather than building – this would had significant industrial capabilities.

Which was exactly what they wanted. Needed, if they were going to be able to produce any kind of components for weapons or, well, anything really. Prototype nanofactories and 3D printers could only get them so far.

So he was polite when they were offered a tour of the city by some civil servant or politician or something – Rodney didn’t pay enough attention to know. Actually, some of what they guy said was sort of interesting – boasts about their technology, all the progress they’d made.

He had to admit he was a little impressed. Teyla had said that the Wraith destroyed any worlds who advanced enough to cause them trouble. These ‘Hoffans’ would have had to have advanced extremely quickly to get where they were now – they could definitely be useful in some capacity. Certainly they were the most advanced culture they’d yet to meet and – oh, shit, now he was thinking about Elizabeth’s What To Do When You Meet a Technologically Advanced Culture memo.

How did it go? Something something no weapons trades unless payment is in kind, something something chemical/biological/nuclear weapons, something something _medicine_ , that’s right, they were allowed to trade medical expertise for actual stuff.

“So how do you keep the Wraith from attacking?” asked Sheppard suddenly. It was definitely the question they’d all been wanting to ask, but Rodney at least had been busy thinking about all the things he could get them to produce if they let him.

Maybe he could give them the secrets of flight. That was a – no, wait, you could weaponise flight easily. Now that he’d thought about that, they was shockingly little they could trade. How about that.

“We do not,” said the man simply. Chancellor Druhin, that was it, thought Rodney. “Please, we hope you will feel comfortable in the rooms we have provided.”

Apparently that was it for the day; Rodney hoped they got given a sumptuous dinner. ‘Roaring twenties’ and all, maybe a flapper or two.

It was nice to be back in something resembling civilisation.

*

Rodney had been right about the dinner. At about three pm Atlantis time (which was dinner time for the Hoffans, what with them being on a different planet to Atlantis) they were collected from their rooms – which Rodney had been very pleased to see were of the sort an imperial power back on Earth would have given to visiting dignitaries – and taken to some grand dining hall.

Great to see they warranted VIP treatment – the Chancellor was there, as well as some other politician-looking types. He found that they’d been strategically seated, also, depending on what exactly the Hoffans thought they were good at – Teyla had been sat with the politicians, Ford with what Rodney assumed were generals and – surprisingly, both he and Sheppard had been sat with science-types. Rodney assumed it was because Sheppard always lingered near him (he knew he was the weak link in their team; he didn’t object).

So when they had all sat the Chancellor got up to make a speech.

“The people of Hoff would like to welcome our esteemed guests from Terra, distant cousins of Athos” – they’d lied about where they came from just slightly – “to Hoff. We hope there is much we can learn from you, and much that you too can learn from us. Please, enjoy this small sample of Hoffan generosity tonight, and tomorrow we shall discuss business.”

They had plans for trade and information exchange too, obviously. No doubt they wanted to get their hands on the P90s, or the life signs detector Rodney carried around. They had a veritable treasure trove of stuff, really, if you were a 1920s-era civilisation.

He’d been sat next to an exquisite young woman named Perna, but his initial excitement dimmed slightly when he learned she was a medical scientist – which on this world, definitely would actually equate to voodoo practitioner. He made enough fun of Carson, but the truth was that on Earth, medical science was really a true science, if a little fuzzier than math and physics. This was just – something else entirely. He doubted they understood genetics, or – or evolution; it was rare to find a seeded human world that had, in the Milky Way.

He glanced at Sheppard, who’d realised his predicament almost as soon as he had. The bastard had the gall to look away to chat with some absurdly handsome young mathematician.

“You are a doctor, yes?” Perna asked him when he’d dared stop talking for a few moments.

“Oh, uh, yes – but not a medical doctor. I’m a physicist. And an engineer. I have two PhDs, you know.” He didn’t know why he said that. She wouldn’t have any idea what a PhD was—although she was definitely smart enough to work it out from context, he supposed.

“How interesting. I am sure there is much that we do not yet know – of weapons and defensive science,” she replied. Oh, dear. He wasn’t supposed to be talking about this – ask her what she did, maybe?

“So uh, what is it exactly that you do, Perna?” He was so bad at this. Clumsy. In his defence, the last woman he’d tried to chat up was Carter, who had him sent to Siberia. Other than Svetlana, the woman whose name was far too lovely for her face, there had been no women there at all.

“I am a medical researcher. My specialism is in chemistry – I help to design new drugs.”

That was good, he supposed – it was entirely possible the Pegasus galaxy had some kind of wonder drug, a cure for cancer that someone so lovely as Perna had created. It was compelling.

“We-we’re always looking for new medicine,” he replied. It was true. They were. Some part of why they’d gone to Atlantis was to try and uncover new medical treatments and equipment – there was a whole section in the multi-page, multi-chaptered Atlantis Expedition Charter detailing advances that the ISA would like to see, although their main mission was to stay alive and find weapons, as per the Mission Summary on page 3.

“Then perhaps we have something that would be of mutual benefit,” she said, smiling at him. He wasn’t going to be charmed by little miss smiles and charm, though; he knew she was trying to play him, to probe and see just what it was the Expedition had to offer.

It wouldn’t be weapons, probably – Elizabeth had said that was a last resort, if they encountered a culture with access to a piece of strategic technology. Rodney would give a whole lot for a ZPM, though – he’d bootstrap a Mega Turret for a ZPM. Fuck it, he’d throw in a Goa’uld shield for a ZPM.

He asked a few probing questions about power generation, and predictably the answer was fossil-fuel based steam power; why, why, why couldn’t there be an advanced population who could make cold fusion power cells like the ones in DHDs? They hadn’t been able to figure those out yet themselves – not with Machine analysis, either, and their only ‘allies’ were the Asgard – who doled out bits and pieces of technology like treats, except it was always stuff they’d almost managed to work out anyway.

The night wound up eventually and Rodney felt a little too drunk for what was essentially his job – making contact with hot alien blondes (purely professional contact, not that sort of contact). He fobbed off the guides who wanted to take him back to his rooms – he was a genius, he could remember his way back – to stumble off himself.

It took him a little while, but eventually he figured he’d got to the right place after all. He fiddled with the door knob for a bit before he realised he needed his key, which he fished out of his pockets and tried it in the lock.

It didn’t work, which meant that he’d either put it in the wrong way or it wasn’t his room – neither was a particularly comforting scenario. After a little while the door opened to reveal a _practically naked_ Major Sheppard with an eyebrow raised.

“Got something to ask, McKay?” he said, leaning against the door frame. “If you’re lost I can show you where to go,” he offered, smirking.

“I’m not … I’m not _lost_ ,” said Rodney. “I just happen to be in the wrong place. I know _exactly_ where my room is now, it’s—it’s…”

Damn. He’d forgotten it. In his defence, he was drunk and there were pretty women and now Sheppard was basically naked and – it was a lot to deal with, and it was the first time he’d been drunk in over three months. Since back on Earth.

“Yours is the next one over, McKay,” said Sheppard. “See you in the morning.”

He shut his door, leaving Rodney to stumble back to his own rooms and pass out in bed.

*

The next morning John knew Rodney would have a headache. He hadn’t drunk much himself – he’d been too busy discussing math with the scientist he’d been sat next to. Contrary to how he portrayed himself, he was actually a genius. Maybe not at McKay’s level – the man was decades ahead of probably the entire Earth contingent combined – but he could keep up with the Hoffans, at least.

Didn’t matter. He personally took it upon himself to wake up Rodney bright and early for trade discussions with the Hoffan leadership – he’d been up reading his copy of Elizabeth’s trade memo, so he felt okay with the prospect. Teyla would be doing most of the actual negotiation anyway, since they’d pretended to be distant cousins of Athos who’d been in hiding for some unspecified length of time.

Anything they did could potentially land their Athosian allies in trouble, so Teyla was going to take the lead.

“Rise and shine, McKay,” he said cheerily, knocking loudly on the hungover scientist’s door. It unlocked and opened quickly to an irate-looking McKay. “We have _trade negotiations_ to look forward to today, McKay, in case you don’t remember.”

To John’s surprise, his face actually brightened. He didn’t like it.

“What are you up to, McKay?”

“Up to? Nothing, nothing; just thinking about some components we need. Hoff is an industrialised world after all.”

“Elizabeth said no weapons, remember? These are smart people, McKay – I’m sure they could work stuff out if we have them making us P90s.” He’d read the memos she’d sent out to all off-world teams – some of them, anyway.

“No weapons. I was thinking bigger, anyway. Casings for a new Mega Turret, some other components for things way above their tech level.”

That was probably okay, then. With McKay collected the two of them went to meet Ford and Teyla to begin trade discussions. It was a predictably dull affair, and John had had very little input other than to reiterate that they were unwilling to trade advanced weaponry. McKay, though, had a lot to say on the various things he wanted the Hoffans to contribute.

Eventually it became clear that there was one thing especially the Hoffans were interested in – advanced medical expertise. They hashed out a deal to send some of the Expedition’s doctors and geneticists to Hoff in exchange for the industrial products the Hoffans could provide. Towards the end of the negotiations the Chancellor said something that made John pay attention again.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“We, ah, now that we have gotten to know you a bit better… you understand the need for secrecy,” said the Chancellor. “There is one thing our people have thrown themselves into, have prioritised more than any other – and that is finding a way to fight the Wraith. You have denied us weapons, and we understand your reasoning; however, if you can provide us with a medical expert, we are prepared to show you the Hoffans’ greatest accomplishment.”

 _That_ was interesting. So they dialled the alpha site and had them contact Atlantis, and got permission for Dr Beckett to come off-world. In the mean time, AR-1 was shown to a secret underground facility.

It was an archive. One of many archives across the entire planet housing the sum knowledge of the Hoffan people. Three culls had passed, and each time the people saved by hiding in the archives spread across the surface of the planet to rebuild in the ruins of their world. It explained how apparently Hoff alone in Pegasus enjoyed such high standards of living, and were clearly an advanced society.

Three culls, and they were apparently closer than ever to finishing what had clearly become the defining project of the Hoffan people: a vaccine against the Wraith. How far would they have come if the Expedition hadn’t maybe woken the Wraith early?

They were met by Perna, the scientist McKay had been talking up at the dinner the night before. John didn’t see the appeal; she was pretty, and definitely smart, but she was definitely married to science. He understood her passion a bit better, now. Actually, she was pretty much the same as McKay, but prettier and less prickly.

“I am the head researcher on the Wraith vaccine,” she told them. “We keep careful and up to date records of all of our research, and ensure that copies are installed in every archive such as this on the planet. In that way, after a cull, we do not lose precious generations remembering basic concepts and ideas.”

It was a workable strategy. Hide enough of your people underground with all your civilisation’s knowledge and when the Wraith come, you come out relatively unscathed.

“This is remarkable,” said Teyla. “But I must express concerns with your ‘Wraith vaccine’ – if the Wraith discover a world upon which they cannot feed they will destroy it – truly, not even your archives would survive such an attempt at destruction. Is there not another way?”

“Perhaps,” said Perna, “but we have not been working on another way. This is the way we have chosen.”

“We believe our vaults will be safe in the event of a Wraith attack,” continued Chanceller Druhin. “They have never before failed us, though not every one saves its hoard when the time comes. We intend to spread the cure from world to world so that when the Wraith wake to feed, they will find that they cannot.”

“That’s fine and dandy if you have the time to spread the vaccine through hundreds of worlds – but you don’t,” said Rodney. “The Wraith might be awake _now_ ; we told you that. There’s no time for such an ambitious plan and it’ll only work if you can inoculate everyone against the Wraith. Otherwise they’ll just destroy every world that’s immune and go back into hibernation until the next big cull.”

John agreed. But he didn’t say so just yet – better they got back to Atlantis to discuss the new intelligence.

“If you don’t mind, Chancellor, Perna – I think it’s time we got back to our people. Have to get our leader to sign the trade agreement and all,” he said, all smiles and placating tones. That much was true anyway – the agreement wasn’t binding until Elizabeth signed off, and they could hand Beckett over at the same time.

“Of course, of course,” said the Chancellor. Their business done, he escorted them out of the subterranean research facility-cum-holocaust-bunker and they made their way back to Atlantis – first dropping off Beckett with the Chancellor, and then via the alpha site. Couldn’t be too careful.


	2. Chapter 2

AR-1 had brought back some interesting news. It was expected, thought Elizabeth. They didn’t seem to be able to visit a world without finding something interesting – putting it mildly – about it. This, however, was more of a gift than a curse on this occasion.

An entire society dedicated to fighting the Wraith in the only way they knew how, surviving three culls and working on the same project for 150 years – it was astonishing. That kind of commitment was exactly what the Expedition wanted and needed in an ally, and they had significant industrial capabilities to boot, if Rodney hadn’t been exaggerating.

She had gathered Major Sheppard’s team in the conference room to discuss their findings, and some intelligence about the Wraith that had filtered through the Athosians’ trade network.

“We have the trade agreement from Hoff for you to look over,” said John, pushing a stack of papers across to her. It was on paper, and typed with a Hoffan typewriter – Elizabeth had to admit it was nice having good old fashioned paperwork to look over. “Everything should be good. Rodney extracted a lot from them; apparently he’s got big plans.”

“Yes, well – I’ll get to that later,” said Rodney. “Elizabeth, you said you had information about Wraith activities?”

“I want to talk more of the Hoffans first, Rodney. What exactly have you asked them to produce for us?”

“Just, you know, components and stuff. It’s all there in the agreement.” She glanced down at the document. “I’ll take the summary, please.”

“I’ve asked them to produce a number of complex component we might need, such as casings for another Mega Turret, and a bunch of other little stuff. Mostly just casings again, but I included an option for them to switch to making replacement jumper parts.”

“Can they do that?” asked John. “Seems pretty advanced for them.”

“They can’t make us control crystals, but I don’t see why they can’t make some of the macro-scale parts,” said Rodney. “Anyway like I said, it’s all there in the trade document. It used the tech specs I showed you before we left, Elizabeth.”

Ah. Those. She’d glanced over them, but most of it was over her head. It was nothing that counted as advanced weaponry, she was sure, and if Rodney thought it would be of benefit to Atlantis she would take his word for it.

“Parts for constructing another naquahdah generator, too. We have plans for the Mark II with us, I think; a lot of stuff we can use in conjunction with our 3D printer.”

That had been a hard sell, Elizabeth remembered. It would probably pay off in the end, if it meant they could produce some much needed items without resupply from Earth.

“And what about medicine, food?”

“I believe Dr Beckett will make the final negotiations regarding medical expertise and exchange,” said Teyla. “As for food, I do not believe Hoff is necessarily the best trading partner in this area. If it is agreeable to you, Elizabeth, I can arrange for a meeting with the Genii. They are long standing trading partner of Athos and I believe they would be more than happy to provide Atlantis with food in exchange for medical expertise.”

“Good,” said Elizabeth. “Now, as you know, two months ago we encountered and destroyed a Hive ship.”

“Putting it mildly,” said Rodney. She ignored him.

“Since that time, and since the events of M7G-677, information has filtered through the Athosian trading network. While you were away Halling came to us with some new information. It appears that the Wraith attacks thus far have been scattered and small scale; we believe that the Wraith are not yet awake in great numbers.”

“That’s good news,” said Rodney. “If they were all awake we wouldn’t stand a chance – now we can maybe do something about it. This just means that we need to build another Mega Turret, pronto.”

“It’s good news and bad news. We can’t be sure, but we think that the Wraith may suffer from internal conflicts in the absence of an enemy against which they can unite. The situation we find ourselves in now may be one where a single Wraith faction has woken and is united against us; in that scenario, we would perhaps be better off with all of the Wraith awake.”

“And you’ve run Machine analysis?” Rodney demanded. She had. It had been one of the first things she’d done – she fed her Machine program the news and watched as it came to many of the same conclusions she had, and then some.

“Of course, Rodney.”

“We can deal with a couple of Hives, maybe. Atlantis has drone weapons, right?” he asked, looking to Rodney for confirmation. He nodded. “Okay, so if we stick in another Mega Turret on one of the higher towers, build a couple more generators to power the shield… drone weapons should be enough to take out a Hive or two, right?”

“In theory,” said Rodney. “But in practise, I’m not so sure. Remember that the Ancients were besieged when they left, so it’s likely the drone weapons had been depleted. We haven’t found where they’re kept and we don’t know how many there are – still locked out of that system – but we can’t make more, either. So we don’t want to rely on them if we don’t have to.”

“Do we? Have to, I mean,” said John again.

“Maybe, maybe not. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about defending Atlantis _a lot_. I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

“Would you care to share them, Rodey?” she asked, feeling slightly impatient.

“The jumpers have cloaks, right? Why doesn’t Atlantis? Two reasons. One, it’s a lot harder to cloak a city than a space car. The second is that the Ancients had access to, for all intents and purposes, an unlimited stock of ZPMs. They could power the shield no matter what. I’m confident that I’ll be able to make it so we can cloak the city” He paused. “It could take a while, though. It’ll have to replace the shield, too, probably.”

“Then how the hell is that a good idea?” asked John. Elizabeth had concerns along that line too.

“Think about it. Cloaked, no one can detect we’re here. There’ll be no reason to attack us – shielded, we’re obviously here and we won’t last under siege. And, it takes significantly less power to run a cloak than a shield. I think.” He frowned. “It’s just an idea for now – I need to figure out more of the city’s systems first. It’s just one part of my wider Atlantis Defensive Network, anyway.”

“Which includes?” It was good to know Rodney had been devoting time to securing Atlantis. She was glad they’d brought a Mega Turret with them, now; the weaponry was based on stolen ha’tak technology, and if a Hive came into range she didn’t doubt it could do some damage. If Rodney could construct more that would be – more than excellent.

“City cloak, maybe. Mega Turret array, eventually. Everything depends on resource availability, obviously,” he said. “And plans can change. We’ve already rigged a self-destruct, in case it comes to it. This should hopefully make that a real last resort, since right now we don’t have that many options.” She’d gone over some of those plans with him already. Nothing they did really made her feel any safer, though; she supposed living in a warzone was taking its toll on her.

“There’s some other stuff, too – ideally, the mainland settlement should be at the alpha site. I know that’s not practical now, but if it ever become practical we should do it.”

Teyla frowned, and Elizabeth couldn’t blame her. Her people had already been uprooted once.

“I think my people would prove resistant to further resettlement; such a thing would be better left for if the Wraith attack Atlantis.”

“I agree,” said Elizabeth. “I assume Dr Beckett was received well by the Hoffans?”

“Absolutely delighted to meet him,” said John. “I told him to be on the look out for anything useful, too. So he’ll dial the alpha site to update as and when.”

“Excellent,” said Elizabeth. “Teyla, you mentioned something about a people called the Genii?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was somewhat difficult to write. I'm not sure why. The next installment will be a little more interesting, I promise!

The Hoffans had been a mission Rodney was _glad_ to do. It helped them secure some essentials that he knew the Expedition would need some day. He could see concrete, tangible benefits from it. The Genii, however, were farmers.

Not only were they farmers, they farmed tava beans. Which he’d said before and would say again were like sadness in an edible form. It wasn’t like they had anything interesting to say, either. So far it had consisted of telling the team how difficult it was to clear stumps out of fields and more details about their quaint space Amish existence. One of them was apparently a childhood friend of Teyla, so Rodney tuned _that_ out as soon as he’d realised.

It was _dull_.

“We can get that stump right out of there,” drawled Sheppard. “If you show us where you mean.”

Oh, good lord. He was probably going to use C4 to blow the thing out, and Rodney wondered if that went against some sort of regulation – probably not as long as they don’t hand over any advanced weapons, actually, so Rodney didn’t bother to interrupt and protest when they veered off course in the direction of the aforementioned field.

Stuck for something interesting to do, Rodney glued his eyes to his equipment and searched for any unusual power signatures or sources of radiation. He doubted they’d find anything here except a dozen more or so space Amish communities, but it gave him something to do whilst Sheppard and Ford blew stuff up.

Briefly, he wondered how either of them would react to the knowledge that Sam Carter blew up a sun. He snorted, earning himself a look from Teyla, but he waved it off. She helped hammer out the trade agreement – medicine and a teeny-tiny stash of C4, which Rodney privately felt Elizabeth would veto – and they headed back towards the gate to confirm with Elizabeth, leaving Teyla and Ford behind with the Genii.

He was pretty sure that Sheppard had gotten them lost.

“You have no idea where we are, or where we’re going, do you?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Sheppard. “I’m just going a different way to before.”

“The Genii were very clear on the route to take.” And they had been. They’d made Sheppard repeat back to them the route he was supposed to take, but as always, Sheppard knew better.

“I prefer to go in straight lines. It’s faster.”

“Really.” He rolled his eyes, and was about to retort, but that thought was pushed out of his head by a series of strange readings. Readings that he might expect from the Hoffans, maybe, if they’d told a few lies, but not from the space Amish Genii.

“There’s something weird about this,” he said suddenly. He stopped outside of an old building that looked abandoned.

“It’s just a short cut, McKay. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to come onto you.”

“Please, not that,” he said, “I’m picking up a source of radiation… but it’s not from a hyperdrive or any advanced technology as far as I can tell.”

“Ancient waste dump?” offered Sheppard.

“Mm. Maybe.” Rodney didn’t think so. He looked at the old, run-down building a short distance away and smirked. “I bet if we check that out we’ll figure out what it is.”

Sheppard strode off towards it and Rodney followed, alternating between trying to figure out what the source could be and not tripping over the roots and rocks that littered the area.

“It’s a bunker.”

“Thanks, I can see that,” said Rodney. And – that’s what it looked like, anyway. And the radiation was coming from down there.

“Shall we?”

“Ladies first.”

Sheppard shot him a withering look and then opened up the bunker.

*

Trust McKay to find secret underground bunkers on a planet full of space Amish farmers. He wasn’t surprised, not really; the man had a knack for finding cool stuff. As far as John could tell, there was a whole underground complex spreading out from the shaft they’d used to gain entry. It definitely rivalled the SGC in terms of size, he thought.

There were long, straight corridors heading in a bunch of directions, but he followed McKay towards the source of the radiation and eventually they rounded a corner and came upon what looked like a Genii security patrol.

Which was ridiculous because the Genii were farmers, except actually they definitely weren’t, not with this bunker.

“Howdy.”

“Your weapons, please.”

John saw McKay glance at him, and he shook his head. There were eight Genii and only two of them, and McKay had improved since his first mission, but they couldn’t take eight armed guards.

“Sure thing,” he said, and handed over his guns. He doubted the Genii would do anything too drastic, not after they’d seen the C4 demonstration, and he’d been dropping hints about the Expedition’s technological prowess since they’d arrived.

They were probably just mad they’d managed to find their secret underground bunker. Which was fair enough, really. John and McKay were escorted through a series of tunnels that all looked exactly the same until they were ‘shown’ to an interrogation room.

“Cowen.” He wasn’t too surprised to see the man here. Not really.

“Major. Dr McKay.” He paused. “Usually, we would kill anyone who stumbled upon our underground bunkers.”

“Maybe if you’d _lock the doors_ it wouldn’t happen,” said McKay. John agreed.

“But we won’t do that to you,” he continued. “We want your C4 explosives, after all, and from what I understand your leader would not allow that if you did not return.”

“You’re building nukes,” said McKay. “I _knew_ it.”

“What?” Cowen said it at the same time as John, surprise etched into his face.

“Please. A trained monkey could figure it out. You’re leaking radiation everywhere.” He paused. “You didn’t know, did you?”

“Our scientists tell us that no harm will come of this,” said Cowen.

“Well they’re _wrong_. Trust me – we’re about sixty years ahead of you on this particular technology. This level of radiation is _dangerous_.” He shot John a look. “ _We’re_ safe. It’d take days or months for us to get ill from it.”

“How many of you guys live down here?”

“Almost all of us.”

“Just don’t have kids, Sheppard, and you’re okay.” McKay’s face had gone pale. John didn’t blame him – poorly shielded nuclear facilities probably weren’t high on his list of places to visit.

“Look, we don’t care what you’re going to do with the C4,” said John, “ _or_ what you do with your underground bunkers. We just need food.”

“We would be happy to let you go, Major, in exchange for what is clearly Dr McKay’s expertise in nuclear technology. And the C4, of course.” He had the audacity to look disinterested, as if it were a _favour_ that he’d let them go.

“What do you want them for?” He chanced the question. Elizabeth wouldn’t agree to give them anything if they planned to use them against other human societies, but he figured the Wraith were a fair target.

“The Wraith, of course, Major.”

John couldn’t see that they had a lot of options, then. The Genii were already building nukes, so they weren’t really trading advanced weaponry, and they could offer help against the Wraith. Maybe.

“We’d have to clear it with our leader, of course,” he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his terms.

“Of course.” Cowen turned to their—escort, he supposed, since everyone was pretending they weren’t prisoners, and barked a set of commands. “Return the Major’s weapons and escort both him and Dr McKay back to the gate. So that they don’t get lost again.”

They deserved that, he supposed.

*

AR-1 had returned from the Genii planet together, and John and Rodney had insisted on a meeting immediately to discuss what John had called a ‘delicate negotiation’. Elizabeth had learned to assume that AR-1 would invariably bring back interesting news, situations or disasters, and so she tried not to let her fear show on her face.

Teyla had said that the Genii were simple farmers, that she had played with them as a child and that they were long-standing trading partners of Athos. Judging by the fact that no one had been injured and that John and Rodney hadn’t come back with news of a cull, Elizabeth allowed them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps they’d found a ZPM.

“The Genii are building nukes,” said Rodney as soon as he’d entered the room. “They pretend to be farmers, but they’re not.”

“We were _supposed_ to lead in to it slowly,” interrupted John. Rodney shrugged.

“I’m going to need a bit more detail, I think,” said Elizabeth. It was a startling revelation. From what history had taught them, civilisations that developed nukes were rather less discerning about their use than they would come to be after they realised the severity of the devastation they caused.

“The Genii pretend to be simple farmers so that the Wraith don’t target them, but most of their population lives in underground death bunkers where they’re working on nukes.”

John sighed.

“They’re not underground death bunkers, Elizabeth. They just haven’t worked out proper shielding techniques for reactors.”

“What do they want from us, then?”

“They want McKay to help them build a bomb. And some C4.”

She didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“I sent you out to find food,” she settled on. “Not nuclear weapons.”

“Do you know how hard it is to clear a 300 year old stump out of a field?”

“Intimately, of course,” she replied. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“We negotiated. We have something they need, they have something we need. I thought that was the point?”

She sighed.

“It was. But I draw the line at providing nuclear devices.”

“They’re building them already,” said Ford. “So it’s not like we have to give them one of ours.” He paused. “Can you even build a nuke, McKay?”

“I built an atomic bomb for my sixth grade Science Fair entry.”

“Can you … are you allowed to do that?”

“I got questioned for six hours by the CIA.”

“We are specifically prohibited from giving away advanced weapons technology,” said Elizabeth. “I think this counts.”

“Not if they’re already there anyway,” said Rodney. “And they are, basically. They need C4 as a detonator and someone to tell them how to shield properly, but they’ll be there on their own soon enough.”

“They want to fight against the Wraith, Elizabeth,” said John. “We could use the help. They can build us bombs and we can nuke the Wraith hives that are still asleep. We might not get another chance like this one.”

“They don’t know where Atlantis is either,” said Rodney. “So it’s not like we have to tell them, is it?”

She considered it. They weren’t allowed to trade advanced weapons to primitive societies, but if the Genii had already made headway with the technology, she supposed they could help them make it safer, and warn them of the dangers of radiation. And it was true that an ally against the Wraith could only be a good thing; Pegasus lacked advanced societies that could really take the fight to the Wraith, and most of them were still asleep anyway.

Tactical nuclear strikes would probably help them in the long run, if they could incapacitate enough hives before the hibernation ended. God, she didn’t think she’d ever _think_ that, that she’d ever be in a position to actually sign off on nuclear weapons use. But she had. They’d done it once before. And technically – and it was a dangerous technicality – the _Expedition_ wouldn’t be developing the weapons _or_ using them. It would be a joint operation between the Expedition and the Genii, a reasonably advanced society. That had always been allowed, especially if it could lead to tangible gains.

“Okay. No _enhancements_ , Rodney,” she said. “Get it working, make it safe, but don’t give them anything they weren’t going to figure out anyway.” She paused. Perhaps it was time for her to go off-world? “Tell – tell Commander Cowen that I’m willing to meet with him. At the Alpha Site.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said John.


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth had to admit that the work that had been done on the Alpha Site was impressive. The Mega Turret sat some distance away from the gate, apparently primed to attack non-human targets (or so Rodney had told her, in a roundabout way, when he was complaining about how screwy the AI was). The actual Alpha Site was a short distance away, dug into the side of a mountain.

The underground complex wasn’t yet complete, but the number of field tents had dwindled since the last of the reports. In all, Elizabeth was very pleased with the progress they’d made. This was a safe, defensible position – and definitely appropriate for a meeting with foreign leaders, since they were still keeping Atlantis a secret.

Commander Cowen of the Genii was scheduled to arrive shortly, so Elizabeth waited with AR-1 at the gate for his arrival. The gate activated and Cowen, with a guard of four Genii soldiers, stepped through.

She watched his reactions to the Mega Turret, which whirred and spun in their direction. She watched his reaction to the puddlejumper, parked a short distance away.

“Commander Cowen,” she said, stepping forward to greet him. “Welcome to M1X-822.”

“This is your … homeworld?” he asked, glancing around.

“Not exactly. But something like that,” said John. “Let’s get away from the gate.”

Two security teams – one Earth-personnel only, and one mixed Earth/Pegasus team – met them along the way.

“I confess,” said Cowen, “my people have never heard of you before. We believed this planet to be uninhabited, until you agreed to meet with us here. And yet now I see that isn’t quite the case. Have we not earned your trust to be shown your homeworld?”

 “We’re from a distant world, inaccessible to us at this time,” she said. “Our partners from Athos have been very gracious in getting us up to speed with the situation here. I’m told that our complex will be somewhat familiar to you. Please, Commander, after you.”

The followed Cowen through the small set of corridors that had been built already and into one of the larger, more comfortable rooms they’d dug out for visiting dignitaries.

“How do you power such a facility?” he asked after he’d been sat down. “It does not appear large enough for a nuclear reactor, and yet you do not lack for power. How is that?”

Elizabeth smiled. It was time to say lots without giving away secrets, and that was something she was good at.

“Our power requirements are—considerably less than I would imagine the Genii require,” she said. “We have a number of technologies designed to provide smaller levels of power than an entire civilisation requires; our mission here is only a fraction of our true power and population.” She smiled. “But we’re here to discuss the trade agreement between our Expedition and the Genii.”

“Yes, of course, of course,” replied Cowen. He leaned back in his chair. “We require assistance in weaponising our nuclear technology, which I am told by your Dr McKay that your people did over sixty years ago. Your expertise would transform the project, I am sure.”

She heard Rodney make some sort of noise from behind her, but he stopped short of actually saying anything. Likely because John or Teyla had pinched him.

“Yes, nuclear weapons technology was developed by my people a number of times, although used only once. It is, as I am sure you understand, unbelievably dangerous.” She didn’t have to include all of the times they’d used it on aliens – Goa’uld, Wraith or otherwise. “We do have some concerns, however, given the extreme destructive potential of this technology, about its application. It has always been a policy of my people to withhold advanced weapons technology from those who might misuse it. What are your intentions?”

“That is understandable. The Genii, too, pursue such a path in relation to more primitive societies. We have much in common, the Genii and … your people.” He glanced at their surroundings, and then at the weapons carried by his men and hers. “What should we call your people? No name has been offered so far.”

“Our Athosian friends and allies call us ‘Earthers’; you may do so as well.”

Cowen inclined his head.

“We understand your concerns. We hope to use these weapons against the Wraith, before their hibernation cycle is complete and they awake to cull their herds again.” He paused. “Your assistance in this area would be greatly appreciated also. You Earthers appear to be somewhat more prepared for it than the Genii.”

“About that,” said John suddenly. “The whole Wraith thing.”

“Go on,” sad Cowen.

“We woke some of them up when we arrived.”

The silence was palpable.

“What?”

“When the Major and his people arrived here from their homeworld they went in search of friends. The people of Athos were glad to receive them, but we were unfortunately culled by the Wraith watchers. The Major led a military operation to recover both the Earthers’ and my own, destroying the Wraith Hive in the process,” offered Teyla. “Regrettably, we have since received intelligence that a number of Wraith hives are once again active in the galaxy.”

“Is this true?”

“It is,” said Elizabeth. “From what we’ve been able to observe, it is only a small number of Wraith that are active.”

“A series of tactical nuke strikes on hibernating Wraith is probably still the best course of action,” added John. “One that we feel able to commit to, with the help of the Genii. We have ships and expertise, you have nukes. We can mitigate the damage we’ve done in waking them up early, and give ourselves a fighting chance of holding them off in the future.”

Cowen had gone pale. Elizabeth didn’t blame him; she was already terrified of the Wraith and she’d never lived through a single cull, let alone untold generations of culling like the Pegasus natives.

“Then I do not see how we can continue our nuclear programme,” he said. “Dr McKay was able to detect the radiation coming from our bunkers, and I do not believe the Wraith to be lacking in similar capacities.”

“We can help with that,” said Rodney. “We were going to give you the shielding technology necessary anyway; do you _know_ how dangerous this radiation is?”

“We are beginning to understand, thanks to your expedition,” Cowen murmured. “You say you have ships? Then I think we have the beginnings of a plan.”

Elizabeth was pleased. They’d have to run a load of Machine analysis before they started anything, but the Genii were on board and they had an ally with, if not comparable military technology, reasonably advanced tech – maybe they could thrive in Pegasus, after all.

*

Working underground in the Hoffan doomsday bunkers wasn’t quite as pleasant as working in Atlantis, but Carson liked it well enough anyway. He had a lovely, intelligent young woman working with him, all the comforts of an industrialised society and work that, whilst not necessarily what he loved, was at least potentially extremely useful and life-changing.

The research had come along well; he took very little credit for it, however, since it was really the work of generations of Hoffan scientists. It was remarkable, really, that their entire society was so focused on this one thing that they’d survived cull after cull and still managed to make it so far. Earth hadn’t known anything like it – aye, there were difficult situations and disasters all the time, but in the grand scheme of things, Earth had been a safe, controlled environment.

“Ah, lass, take a look at this,” he said, gesturing to his microscope. He’d managed to get the Hoffan drug to respond to his reactivated Wraith cells – which was fascinating in and of itself, since they’d come from a dead Wraith but with the right … nutrients … he could revive them, at least a wee bit. That bit of knowledge he’d filed away for his personal projects; if he could work out what gave Wraith cells their remarkable abilities, he might be able to find a similar way of doing it to humans. He could revolutionise the fledgling field of regenerative medicine with one small treatment, if he got it right.

But that was a distant dream. The reality was that he was in a Hoffan bunker helping them with their vaccine research, and he’d made a wee breakthrough.

“That is interesting, Dr Beckett,” said Perna. “Do you think it might be ready for testing?”

“Carson, love,” he said absently. “I’m not sure. Maybe, if we actually had a live Wraith… but it’s the ethical problem I’m concerned with.”

“Ethical problem? I’m not sure I understand,” said Perna. “The Wraith are our enemy.”

“Oh, aye, lass, I’m not disputing _that_. I meant we’d have to use a human to test the vaccine, and let a Wraith purposefully feed. Where I’m from, the ethics boards wouldn’t approve that in a short time.”

Perna frowned, and then looked thoughtful.

“From what you have told me, Carson, your world is a very different place from any we have ever experienced.” She paused. “It is different here. Who would not wish to help us beat the Wraith? We each have our own skills and ways in which we can help… for us, it is our scientific knowledge. For many, it is simply a willingness to contribute in whichever way they can. We would not force this upon anyone.”

“I suppose things are different here.” He’d told Perna probably more than he should have done about Earth and where they were from, but she seemed like a nice enough lass, and he hadn’t told her about Atlantis or that they were from another galaxy, so he thought that was still technically within the rules. “Earth isn’t fighting the same kind of enemy as the Wraith.”

“But you fight still, yes? Then I think you can understand the lengths we’re willing to go to rid ourselves of the Wraith.”

“Oh, aye, lass,” he said. He could. Earth had gone to extreme lengths to catch up to the Goa’uld. Most SGC personnel had received a dose of nanites they’d developed using alien technology, and everyone on the Atlantis Expedition had received genetic therapies, though it hadn’t stuck to everyone. And they were willing to go further, too; Carson had read his information pack as soon as he’d been sure the city wasn’t going to sink and kill them all. It detailed the avenues of research that might be interesting, it told him what sorts of therapies and experiments he could and perhaps _should_ do now that they were no longer in the Milky Way.

“We are so close,” murmured Perna. “You say all that we need is a Wraith for testing?”

“Aye. I can’t do much with the dead specimens I brought. Even the revitalised cells… cellular physiology often doesn’t quite scale up.” He wished now, more than ever, that Sheppard had brought back a live specimen from M7G-677.

“Can your people acquire one?”

What an odd question. It was funny what became normal quickly.

“I’m not sure. We can ask when we check in next.”

*

It took McKay a week to get the first of the Genii warheads operational, but as soon as he’d got the go-ahead John put together a strike team. The Genii supplied them with a number of worlds harbouring Wraith hives apparently downloaded from a Wraith data core; he’d made a note to have McKay take a once over.

One successful strike down, John was feeling pretty good about the whole affair. They were killing Wraith and securing their position in the galaxy. If John understood the FUBAR Protocol, this was where Earth refugees would come in the event of an apocalypse scenario.

So it was good times all around when McKay reported they’d finished another and needed a target. The current round of strikes was supposed to take out six known hives. He didn’t have a clue how many ships the Wraith had total, but he counted every single loss as a win.

The Genii had been impressed by the puddlejumpers. He’d dropped some hints about the big guns they had back home – the first time he’d seen a BC-304 take out a Ha’tak over the Antarctic was something he’d remember forever – and that seemed to impress them even more. Pity they couldn’t have brought one along, really.

If only they knew that 20 years before they’d been even less clued in to galactic affairs than the Genii were. Jumper One was to report back to the Genii’s planet to restock ordnance, and then back to a hive reachable by space gate. It was almost too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel – but they had to catch a break some time. They’d come running from Goa’uld attacking Earth only to find a similarly advanced and batshit crazy threat existed in what they’d thought could be a reasonably safe haven.

The universe was all sorts of fucked up, John was coming to understand. It was big and messy and there were humans just about everywhere, apparently – and crazy space snakes and vampires and god knows what else. They deserved to get something good every once in a while.

But he couldn’t say he was really that surprised one of the Genii soldiers attached to Jumper One hit him over the head with the end of his gun, and he blacked out.

Pegasus was a bitch.

*

“This is ridiculous, surely you _know_ that?” protested Rodney. “We had a deal, Cowen – I help you technologically, we supply transit to and from targeted hives and everyone is happy!”

“I am afraid not, Doctor.” They’d taken him from his work and stuffed him into what he assumed was an underground prison – they had a Wraith locked up, too, except it hadn’t done much other than spout nonsensical sentences about poetry and the stars. Starved, probably. “We feel that the arrangement we have made with you Earthers is not to our benefit. So we have stolen your expertise and we have acquired your—what was the word? Puddle jumper, that’s it. We have no further need of you, or your people; from what we have seen you lack the capacity to respond to this action militarily.”

Boy, was he wrong. At the back of his mind Rodney knew they’d prepared for this eventuality. Elizabeth had given them a Machine readout of the likely scenarios, and he knew this ranked somewhere on the list – probably at the bottom, since it wasn’t every day that your allies kidnapped you and your stuff and swore to break off all ties. But they could and would respond. Even Elizabeth, who usually wanted peace and diplomacy from everyone, wouldn’t permit the Genii to actually keep him.

“It’s not going to happen.” Rodney was pretty sure it wouldn’t, anyway. Sheppard would be readying a strike team as soon as he missed the scheduled dial-in, which was in about two hours, if he had the time right.

“You are relying on Major Sheppard, of course,” said Cowen. “However, as you will be able to see soon enough, that will not be the case. We have captured your Major and your ship. Our scientists tell me that they now understand enough to develop weapons independently of you; in any case, you will continue to provide expertise.”

“As if,” he said. “We don’t need Sheppard to lead a strike team. We have a command structure, people who are qualified to step up if Sheppard’s MIA.” It did worry him, though. Sheppard was their best chance of a rescue, but he didn’t doubt they’d mount one anyway. They had Jumper Two stationed, cloaked, on the Genii homeworld waiting for just this kind of occasion.

They’d hoped it’d be unnecessary, but obviously not. He _knew_ the Genii would turn out to be great big dicks in the end. Their whole society was just so twisted and bent on one thing in particular – he was beginning to see how the Wraith fucked up everything, not just tech levels.

“Ah,” said Cowen, “there is the Major now.”

Rodney turned. A bunch of Genii soldiers were dragging an unconscious Sheppard into his cell – next to the Wraith’s, and far enough away from his own that communicating would be impossible.

“Now then, Doctor. We have much to discuss.”

And then it hit Rodney that actually, they could probably make him talk about a lot of things. Torture wasn’t exactly something he’d prepared for, and the Genii didn’t seem to have a concept of human rights as applied to prisoners of war.

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't given up on this! It's been a very long time (9 months? more? I don't even know) since I last posted anything, but I've been pretty busy with general life issues in that time. But this is what I've got for you, and I hope to actually get through this thing and get it finished because there's definitely more stuff to write and some of the really cool stuff that I actually started writing this FOR hasn't happened yet.
> 
> So I haven't quit. It's just taking a while.

Rodney wasn’t sure how long he’d been a prisoner for any more. He’d kept a careful track of everything that had happened at the start, but after the sixth beating he’d stopped remembering. He refused to give them any details still, though. He was proud of that. He deserved to be; he hadn’t given up Atlantis, hadn’t compromised their position.

It got harder to resist telling them things when they got out an electrified cattle prod—probably a Wraith design, if not an actual Wraith device—and started using that. He hadn’t been trained for this. Even so he did his best to maintain a cool detachment from the affair: it was happening, it was real, but it was reality. He’d signed up for this. All Atlantis personnel had been trained to a basic standard, and one of the things Rodney had learned was that he had more willpower than he’d thought.

Especially when his life was literally in the hands of a crazed space Amish Nazi torturer.

He tried giving them misinformation and half-truths that would lead them nowhere, in the hope of lessening his burden. In exchange for that, they seemed to let off a little. He set back their understanding of the stargates and space travel back decades, hopefully.

But eventually he couldn’t even do that any more because it just hurt too much. And then they stopped suddenly, and he was cared for and treated. He realised why when the Genii in charge of the prisoners, a man named Acastus Kolya—he’d never been good with names, but _this_ name was burned into his mind like none ever had before—informed him that it was Sheppard’s turn now.

It had probably only been a few days, but to Rodney it felt like it’d been months. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through this; he’d come a long way, figuratively and literally, but he wasn’t equipped for torture. His body and mind were broken, and he didn’t think he could come back.

Didn’t think he wanted to come back.

He was being selfish maybe, but he wasn’t finished on Atlantis. He couldn’t just give up and die. His experience with the Stargate Program and the Atlantis Expedition had taught him that there was so much more than they’d ever thought to dream about all within his reach, if only he didn’t give up and die here. He had Nobel prizes waiting for him when he got back – partial declassification and all that. He expected Sam Carter to win a few, too; the sheer amount of research done by the SGC was staggering.

And they were barely scratching the surface. He had to live because they’d just got to Atlantis. He was the smartest man in two galaxies and he knew more about Ancient technology than anyone else alive. The Expedition would flounder in his absence. But where had it got him? Bound and tortured and so far from home that he might never get to go back.

He wanted to live. But it’d be easy to just give up, give in and give over technological secrets to the Genii. If it lasted any longer, it probably would happen. But he had to rely on Atlantis, on Teyla and Ford and Elizabeth. If he and Sheppard both died—well, that wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t happen. The probability of success was low enough that him dying here, and Sheppard too, after Sumner had already kicked the bucket, would probably cause the Expedition’s failure.

So then he just couldn’t die. It was simple. He couldn’t break too badly – at least not badly enough that he might as well have died, anyway. So he as going to get through this thing. Then he was going to think about what it meant, what had happened and what had gone wrong. But that was for after Atlantis came for him.

That fierce determination got Rodney through the worst of the pain. Initially the nanites had flooded his body with painkillers, but they’d run out long ago. Or whatever happened when the nanites did stuff; he made a note to learn more about them when he got back to Atlantis and then blacked out again.

*

This wasn’t a new thing to John. He could handle pain. Torture sucked, but it was just physical so far. That barely even registered, and ever since he’d received nanite treatment he swore he was less receptive to pain. The shit the US government had allowed to gain some kind of advantage over their enemies was—well, it was worse than he’d ever imagined, but still left them at a significant disadvantage.

Alien species seemed able to heal from lethal injuries almost casually, but humans got stuck with fragile, easily broken bodies. And minds. Mental torture was worse than anything, and nothing the SGC had been able to devise could protect from that. Reports he’d read all said he could be in a much worse place, really.

He knew they were torturing McKay. They’d told him in gory detail, about how McKay was resisting and receiving more torture as punishment. They hadn’t been kept for that long. Despite what the Genii had said, he doubted they’d been kept more than a week tops. His memories faded in and out, coloured with sedatives and other drugs. The Genii wanted them to be afraid, unsure if Atlantis was going to come.

As if that were ever a possibility. The Expedition would come for them when they figured out where exactly they were. He doubted they were on the Genii homeworld. In a lot of ways the Genii were a lot like the people of Earth. They thought in terms of military strategy and intelligence, something other cultures they’d met in Pegasus didn’t seem to do. And for all that they’d made the monumentally stupid decision to betray their alliance with the Expedition. They’d been careful to display strength, to hint at an industrial and military capacity larger than what they truly possessed. Maybe the Genii hadn’t been impressed, maybe they’d assessed the situation as being broadly favourable—but they’d kidnapped them anyway, probably assuming that much of their technology was borrowed or far away.

And they’d be right. But the scientists and military personnel working for the SGC had worked damned hard to leap decades into the future and gain some understanding of events on the galactic stage.

“Major Sheppard.”

Sheppard didn’t bother to look up. The voice marked the man as Acastas Kolya, the rat bastard who’d orchestrated this whole thing.

He got kicked in the stomach for ignoring him. He grunted, and then rolled over.

“Get up. We have someone for you to meet.”

Sheppard got to his feat slowly. They’d cuffed him early on and kept him that way. A smart move on their part, since he was still thinking about ways to make an escape even cuffed as he was.

Kolya and his grunts shuffled him through a series of grey corridors into another room containing a block of cells. He expected to see McKay, bound and bloodied. Some sort of dual torture session.

He didn’t expect to see a Wraith. At first he wasn’t sure the strange creature in front of him was a Wraith, but then he realised he hadn’t seen all the kinds of Wraith. This one had strange skin and a tattoo around his eyes. Long, yellowed white hair framed its face.

“A Wraith?”

“Another of our guests. This one has not been allowed to feed in a very long time. The Genii are generous hosts however, and we would not have it be said that we starve our guests.”

That was it. The Wraith looked pale.

“What’s his name?”

“It doesn’t have a name. It is a Wraith.”

He almost laughed. Kolya had no imagination. Sheppard decided to name him Todd, after a guy he knew in college who was really pale.

They had the Wraith – Todd – chained up in the middle of the room. They’d put a chair opposite him, just outside of his reach

“Sit.”

He didn’t have a choice so he just sat.

“Now then, Major Sheppard. Tell us about your homeworld.”

“It’s got Ferris wheels. I haven’t seen any Ferris wheels since I left.”

Kolya punched him. He expected that.

“That is not the information we would like. If you do not co-operate with us then our dear guest will be allowed to feed upon you.”

“I guess it’s a nice planet. Lots of trees. Looks a lot like every other God-damned planet you’ve seen here.”

He got punched again. Fuck Kolya. He spat.

“You exhibit industrial capabilities far beyond most other planets in this galaxy. You claim to be free of the Wraith. We have observed significant technological advances used by your people. We do not believe this technology is entirely your own. Tell me where your people are.”

“You’ve been to M1X-822.”

Punched again. He growled.

“That is not your homeworld. Nor do I believe is it your regular base of operations. Tell me where your people are.”

“Look, Kolya, buddy… you don’t want to go where we’ve come from. Trust me on that. You can’t, anyway.”

“That is a start,” he said, and then punched him again anyway. “Tell me more.”

“You’re a fucking bastard, Kolya.”

Punched again. What a fucking bastard. Throughout the whole thing the Wraith was watching, humming an odd tune to itself. It was probably insane. Sheppard didn’t think that was such a bad idea, but then he assumed most Wraith were insane to begin with. He didn’t think the Genii would really let the Wraith feed on him; that would make the Wraith too strong for them to contain. So Kolya would probably – hopefully – stick to just punching for today.

“You can’t go where we’ve come from, Kolya. You’ve seen M1X-822. That’s it.”

Punched again.

*

Elizabeth had issued orders to immediately storm the Genii homeworld with several puddlejumpers and an assortment of their more ridiculous weaponry in a bid to get the Genii to release Major Sheppard and Dr McKay. It hadn’t worked. The Genii had sent representatives claiming Acastus Kolya was a renegade, a man acting outside the orders of the Genii chain of command. Nobody had believed them at first, but a team had been allowed to visit the Genii bunkers and see for themelves.

Her people and equipment weren’t there, at least not as far as anyone could see. Machine analysis presented a bleaker picture by the day; she had stopped reading the detailed reports several days ago. The Athosians had travelled far and wide through the stargate calling in favours and trading information, and thus far they hadn’t been able to come up with much.

As heartless as it sounded Elizabeth wasn’t worried about Major Sheppard. He would be able to endure far greater stress than Dr McKay. He would be unlikely to break and reveal the location and existence of Atlantis, nor give out any details about the Expedition. And she could hardly blame McKay if he did – this was not a situation he’d trained for, not really.

The nanite technology would help in the case of torture, Beckett had assured her. The nanites Expedition members carried within their bodies were crude designs, not at all like the many advanced technologies the SGC had encountered, but they still represented a leap in technology that should have been decades, if not centuries, away. The nanites could carry out limited repair and had some anaesthetic functions, so they would be better placed than ever before.

If the technology worked in the way it was supposed to work. Nobody knew that it did, yet. This was the first significant test of the technology. That applied to most of the things they’d brought with them, she supposed.

They were at an untold number of frontiers. Technological, cultural, military… and they represented the only population of Earth humans not under threat from the Goa’uld.

It was a hollow victory, given the looming spectre of the Wraith.

“Elizabeth?”

She looked towards the door to her office. Teyla stood in the doorway, reluctant to enter until she had offered an invitation. That was Teyla—Rodney would simply barge into her office without so much as a hello, John would linger at the door until he’d made up his mind… perhaps she had news.

“Come in, please,” she said. “Do we have a location?”

“Yes. Halling received intelligence that Kolya is based on an uninhabited planet that is believed to have once belonged to the Genii Confederation.”

Elizabeth exhaled. That was good news. Excellent news. With a location she could send an extraction team.

“We have a gate address?”

“Yes. I am told …Machine analysis has been completed, also.”

Elizabeth frowned. Lately, the Machines hadn’t been too optimistic about anything. The technology was new—probably too new—and it could only deal with what it had been programmed to deal with. Rodney had assured her that the head scientist on the project, Dr Zalenka, was working tirelessly to update the software.

“is it good?”

“It… Dr Zalenka had said that he has focused on the more optimistic avenues,” said Teyla finally, “and he believes we have good odds.”

“Good. Bring them home, Teyla.”

“We will succeed in this.”

Elizabeth watched her go. She had to be resolute in this. Major Sheppard and Dr McKay would come back to Atlantis and they would find some way to move forward after the Genii’s betrayal.

They had to.

*

After his meeting with the Wraith – Todd – Sheppard’s cell had moved locations. They stuck him next to the Wraith. They were hoping he’d be scared shitless by the dangling threat of Wraith feeding, but he wasn’t. A well fed Wraith was a strong Wraith, and he knew the Genii knew that. They wouldn’t risk it. This Wraith was probably high ranking; he was definitely a new kind, one they hadn’t seen before. An officer class Wraith? The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. No, this one was probably some sort of Wraith scientist. The Genii had broken their alliance and _kidnapped_ McKay, and that was what they were willing to do to their fellow humans.

Everything about the Genii made him feel sick. They hid underground and used nuclear power for everything, not even realising they were slowly killing their own people. When they found out—when they’d been helped—they weren’t happy and resorted to kidnapping and torture to get what they wanted.

“Fuck the Genii,” he spat. After a few moments he heard a deep, slow burble. Could Wraiths laugh?

“That is a sentiment I can understand,” it said. “I have not seen the stars in so long, so hungry… so much _pain_ and no beauty, no thrills; it is a fate worse than death.”

Great. Stuck in a cell next to a crazy Wraith who felt like bonding.

“I didn’t know Wraith understood beauty.” He decided that was probably a fair comment, considering. “I thought you only understood hunger.”

Silence. Sheppard had killed their conversation almost as abruptly as it had started. That was probably for the best.

“There can be beauty in hunger,” replied the Wraith eventually.

“So what are you in for, Todd?” He decided to just go with it. The name, the conversation, whatever. Maybe something good would happen.

“I am a Wraith.” Good answer. “And that is not my name.”

“You have names?”

He could practically see the sneer.

“Stupid question, I get it.”

Silence again. He could live with that. It was better than punching, at least. …as long as McKay wasn’t getting it instead.

*

Someone had come into his cell. Rodney didn’t  care who it was; it was only ever Kolya, or some nameless Genii brute. He remained curled into a ball. They’d drag him up anyway, so why bother saving them the effort?

“Rodney—are you… it is me, Teyla.”

The shock of that made him bolt upright. He opened his eyes. It _was_ Teyla—and a team of marines. He felt—God, he wasn’t even sure what that was. Relief? Gratitude? Incredulity? Fuck, he couldn’t even place it.

“I can stand.” He got to his feet awkwardly—torture tended to leave the worst aches and pains; and wasn’t that fucked up? He felt like an authority on torture already – and peered at his saviours. “We have to get to Sheppard—that bastard Kolya said they were going to feed him to a Wraith.”

Teyla frowned. “Rodney, I would love to stay, but—“

“I’m coming with you. I think I know where they’re keeping him.”

“Are you… certain?”

“Yes.”

Another team of marines turned up outside, this time led by Bates. Huh. Rodney didn’t think he’d ever be glad to see Bates, but there it was. What a shocker.

“McKay.  Do you know where they’re keeping Major Sheppard?” No time for chat, right. Rodney nodded at the Sergeant’s question.

“Follow me.”

He led them through the blank grey corridors expertly. He hadn’t had any time to do anything other than think, think about everything he’d seen, where they’d taken him. He’d memorised the twists and turns and felt certain he knew where they kept Sheppard. It was the room with the Wraith; they’d taken him to see it more than once, lording the threat of feeding over him. It was empty. They wanted him alive—broken, but alive—and not dead so he could single-handedly modernise their entire civilisation.

But he wasn’t ever going to do that. Not before, and certainly not now. Rodney led the team of marines and Teyla through the twists and turns of the corridors and eventually they came to a thick metal door.

“He’s inside a cell in this room,” said Rodney. “You’re going to want to blow the door open. And… there’s a Wraith in one of the cells.”

Rodney stood back and watched as the marines blew the fuck out of the door and entered the room. Not long after Sheppard was let out of his cell. He shot a glance at the cell next to his.

“We have to let the Wraith out with us,” he said. That was the first thing out of his mouth, not thank you, not a witty remark or a sarcastic quip—‘We have to let the Wraith out with us.’

“Made a friend?” questioned Bates.

“Not exactly. I’m not saying we should invite him over for dinner, but we should let him out.”

“If you are sure, John,” said Teyla. Rodney shot her a look. She didn’t seem convinced – but of course, the Wraith had been her childhood terror. And her adult terror. The Wraith were just a terror to everyone.

“We don’t have to let him go, or… I mean, we don’t have to keep him either, but we shouldn’t keep him locked up here. The Genii might learn something from him, or…” He didn’t finish. Rodney knew what he was going to say anyway: ‘Or might let him feed on their prisoners’. Thankfully it appeared Sheppard had been spared that particular torture, although the bruises and scrapes across his face spoke volumes about what he hadn’t been spared.

Oh, shit. Rodney realised that he probably looked similar, if not… quite so bad as Sheppard. He’d mostly been kept drugged and only hit sparingly—the Genii didn’t want to totally break him or he’d be useless to them.

“Fine. Thompson, Suarez – break out the Wraith. Keep a gun pointed at him,” ordered Bates. “We have to make a break for it _now_ or the Genii could cut us off from the gate.”

“Rodney.” Rodney frowned slightly. It was Sheppard, who never called him anything other than ‘McKay’. “You go back to the gate with Teyla’s team; I’ll stay and wait for Todd to get out.”

So he’d named the Wraith? Cute. Or, more likely, a worrying sign that Sheppard had almost reached breaking point. Fuck Pegasus.

“Right.”

“Follow me,” barked Teyla, who set off almost immediately. Four marines followed her, and Rodney lingered just a second longer before following after them. He’d spent long enough in the Genii bunkers and he was getting out _now_.

*

They got out of the facility just fine. Sheppard had been concerned about that, after he’d made sure McKay and Teyla’s team had at least started to leave. They even managed to get Todd out without any hitches – no sudden feedings, relatively few insults. It was good. They even managed to get out without killing many Genii – something he was ambivalent about definitely.

Bates said there was a ‘jumper near the gate. Fantastic, Sheppard thought. The end was very nearly in sight – and then the Genii swarmed them. They had more men – granted, fighting with pretty shitty weapons – and Bates and his team had to fall back.

Fuck. The Pegasus galaxy fucking _sucked_. Not that the Milky Way was any better, but fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

The Genii had them locked in a shitty firefight, blocked off from the gate and with tree cover way too dense to fly a ‘jumper in. They were _screwed._

He started to feel even worse when all he could do was _watch_ as Todd lunged at him and _fed_.

The only thing he could feel was pain. Intense, extreme pain that was utterly unlike anything he had ever felt before. He felt—scraped thin, like the last bit of butter spread too thin over bread. And then he didn’t even have enough energy to do anything other than watch as Todd made a run for it.

Fucking Wraith. You do _one_ nice thing and they repay you by _fucking killing –_ wait, that wasn’t running away… Todd absolutely demolished the Genii soldiers. He fed upon them, one by one, until he was able to singlehandedly fight the rest of them off.

“Don’t… shoot… yet…” Sheppard managed to croak out quickly. “I think… maybe…”

When he was done, and with the marines holding fire, Todd carefully came back to Sheppard and returned the… energy… he had taken. That was—it was indescribable. He had absolutely zero experiences and memories that in any way felt like what he was feeling now, and almost as soon as he thought he’d figured it out the feeling stopped.

Todd helped him to the ground. Well, that was _fucking weird_.

“The next time we meet we will be enemies,” said the Wraith flatly. He looked energised now, and the dull, maddened look in his eyes was gone, replaced by—by something almost human, and yet so chillingly alien that it made Sheppard shiver.

“I understand. Go, before they shoot you.”

The reinvigorated Wraith laughed, and then fell into a run.

“It would not kill me, Sheppard – I have feasted tonight. Farewell.”

Sheppard turned to Bates. Suddenly, and not at all surprisingly, he felt _fine_. Almost as if he hadn’t been tortured for the better part of, what?

“Not a word, Bates. We’d have been toast if not for him. Let it go.”

“Sir,” came the reply. That was fair, he supposed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said, and fell into a jog towards the gate and the waiting ‘jumper.


End file.
